To Prove Oneself
by ChibiQuatre
Summary: Trowa/Quatre ficcie...can't remember what it's about...must read and review minna-san, pleez? ^^


To Prove Oneself  
By ChibiQuatre(6/28/00)  
  
  
Yet another GW disclaimer: well, do you all REALLY want me to write a disclaimer?! We all know that I don't own GW (though God KNOWS I wish I did!). The GW boyz r'nt mine, never were, never will b. They are owned by their respective creators; Sunrise, There...happy!!! ((oh, and any trouble translating the japanese, I'll b happy to help!))  
  
*NOTE: this is another of those yaoi things that so many people hate...if ur 1 of those peeps, i'm warning u now. STAY AWAY!!! i don't want a buncha flames in my inbox, so i'm warning u now. it's a Trowa/Quatre ficcie (gotta problem with that?) it's in Quatre's POV and also 3rd person, i just wanted to do something different than I always do. sooooo, tell me whatcha think!  
  
  
I can't figure out how to tell him.  
  
Just look at him. I do all the time.   
  
I admire him. Strong and confident, he's so tall: the tallest among us pilots. I  
have to look up to see even part of his face.   
  
I have to look up to see his eyes.  
  
Dark green, emerald eyes that express far more than he cares to let on.  
  
Or maybe I'm just seeing more than he cares to let on.  
  
I've always been the empathic one.   
  


***  


  
Quatre stopped his violin playing just long enough for Trowa to remove the flute  
from its resting spot in the cabinet.  
  
"Ready?" Quatre asked.  
  
Trowa nodded yes, placing the silver instrument to his lips.  
  
They played the duet together for much over an hour. Trowa never ceased to  
dazzle the blond. Whatever tune Quatre picked or dared to invent, Trowa  
seemed to always accompany the rhythm perfectly.   
  
Yes, he was perfect in every way.  
  


***  


  
Then again, what would he see in me? He doesn't think I'm like him at all. He  
probably thinks me a coward.   
  
He's right; my pacifistic views don't correlate to this war; they don't belong here,  
among soldiers. I don't know why I even try. It's such a bother just to be friends  
with him. It took so much effort.  
  
Iie. Bother, maybe, sometimes, but he needs a friend. He will only let me close to  
him. He calls me little one, an adorable nickname that I allow only Trowa to call  
me. I don't think the title impertinent, although Duo has often used it to tease me;  
Trowa has to open up more, but that might just be me again. Maybe I am seeing  
more than there really is.   
  
I just want to be with him. I want him to accept me for everything I am.   
  
Like I accept him.  
  
I just have to find some way to prove my worthiness to him. There must be  
something I can do to make him see what I can do for him.  
  
But what?  
  


***  


  
"Trowa, let me help you."  
  
"Iie!" came the fierce reply. Quatre sighed and shook his blond head, his bangs  
falling into his eyes. It was never any different.  
  
Trowa was still headstrong-Trowa, determined to go on without Quatre's help.   
  
It would've been fine with the Arabian, except that his Uuchu no Kokoro wanted  
to reach out to Trowa's and crack through the rock-hard shell that protected him  
from whatever it was that had hurt him so badly.  
  
I can be just as stubborn as you, thought Quatre. He picked up the bandage and  
grasped Trowa's arm in a firm hold. "Don't move so much," he scolded, and  
proceeded to wrap the taller pilot's shoulder in the medicated gauze. This time,  
Trowa listened to him.  
  
He no longer squirmed in Quatre's gentle grip. Instead, he did as he was told,  
relaxing his muscles and allowing the smaller boy to apply ointment on his arm.  
  
"There." Quatre announced, releasing Trowa's arm. "That wasn't so bad. But you  
should be more careful next time, Trowa."  
  
The green eyes looked up to see Quatre's retreating form. His brow furrowed in  
mystification.  
  
Why did the blond care so much?  
  


***  


  
"Mission accepted."  
  
Trowa explained the plan to me over and over, but I was still nervous.   
  
We were supposed to sneak into an OZ base and steal information about a new  
line of Mobile Dolls. Trowa would be dressing up as a soldier, and I was to  
sneak into the control center while he distracted the others. After I stole the  
information, I was to sneak back out and join HeavyArms in demolishing the  
base.  
  
Standard operations.  
  
So why did I have such a bad feeling about this?  
  
I shook it off. "Understood," I replied, as Trowa planned out our route.  
  
I stood in the doorway, staring in at him.   
  
That was how it always was. It was as if I was a mere peasant, staring in on the  
master's lavish dinner party. He was so perfect, so flawless, and I so full of flaws.  
  
I drifted into my thoughts during his quiet outlining. He never ceased to amaze  
me, ever. He was always full of ideas, and his schemes almost always worked  
without a hitch. When they didn't, it was blamed on our human faults.   
  
"Quatre!" I snapped out of my thoughts and blinked at my partner. Another one  
of my faults: I lose myself easily in my thoughts, and can hardly control my  
confusion.   
  
Trowa was staring at me funny. "Did you hear me, Quatre?" he asked.  
  
I shook my head. "Iie, gomen Trowa. What did you say?"  
  
He tried patiently to explain the route again. "See here..." I had to come into the  
room to see the map. This time, I followed his finger and memorized the road we  
would travel while inside the winding corridors of the OZ base.  
  
He finished. "Can you remember all that?" he asked.  
  
I nodded though unsure of it. "Just let me look it over once or twice."  
  
He handed me the rolled up map. "Hai, but hurry. We've only got a few hours  
before we take off." He glanced outside, then at the clock. "You might want to  
get some sleep," he added as an afterthought.  
  
I left silently and headed to the kitchen. The small hotel room we had decided to  
stay in had only three main rooms: the kitchen, living room, and bedroom. I sat  
on my twin-sized bed and tried to memorize the route.  
  
After long though, I realized that the course I had looked at for so long had not  
been retained. I shook my head and put the map on the nightstand. I was getting  
a big headache from it all. The diagramed corridors all wound together until they  
looked like spaghetti on a plate.  
  
I sighed and lay down on my back, rubbing my eyes gently. Maybe I should rest  
for a while. I had been up the entire night before, trying to hack my way into OZ's  
new computer system.   
  
It had been a failed attempt.  
  
It was actually Trowa who found the map, and after a lot of trouble. In any case,  
he was always better at hacking OZ's computers than I was.  
  
He was better at everything.  
  
I closed my tired eyes and drifted into sleep.  
  


***  


  
Trowa watched the blond settle into his slumber. He always liked to watch  
Quatre while he was sleeping. It was more an act of adoration than spying.   
  
As he watched weariness overtake his partner, he frowned. Quatre hadn't acted  
normally when he had tried to explain the plan. Usually, the Arabian was much  
more focused and concentrated, especially when Heero was trusting this very  
important mission to the two.  
  
Something was going on in that blond little head.  
  
Trowa glanced at the clock again. It was time. As much as he hated to, he had to  
wake Quatre. He took a few tentative steps towards the occupied bed, and  
touched a small shoulder.  
  
No response. Quatre was a far more deep sleeper than he thought.  
  
He had to shake the boy for him to get up. When he did, he still looked tired until  
he rubbed the haze from his eyes. Only then did they return to their regular  
sapphire hue.  
  
"It's time," Trowa announced.  
  


***  


  
He looked stunning in the OZ uniform.  
  
It always amazed me how Trowa could fit any role he was given, like one of  
those professional 'actor' peoples that Duo is always talking about, from before  
the colonies' time. Trowa could wear any mask created.   
  
His versatility allowed me to sneak into the OZ base undetected. He threw the  
soldiers a false lead about the whereabouts of the Gundam pilots, managing to  
pickpocket the keycard from one of the leaving guards, and I reached the  
command console without further ado.  
  
Good thing I brushed up on OZ's new systems. They were different from the old  
computers, which had been easy as pie to hack into and way past due for an  
update. These computers were far more advanced, although they couldn't hold  
out against the skills of a Gundam pilot such as myself.  
  
With some difficulty, I managed to copy the blueprints of the new Dolls onto a  
microdisk and delete the hard copy. I shook my head; where was my mind  
today? Usually, things went much faster. I just found it hard to concentrate.  
  
Thankfully, this mission was fairly easy.  
  
Too easy in fact.  
  
The OZ base rumbled and I heard mayhem in the corridors. Probably a  
high-density detonation at the far end of the base.   
  
Just as we had planned.  
  
I opened the door and snuck out. It wasn't hard to do; the corridors were already  
filled with dark smoke, flashing a burgundy color with the red alarm lights.  
  
I took a deep breath, and started coughing. The smoke was thicker than I  
thought. I bent my head slightly to avoid the suffocating fumes and ran back  
towards the isolated rendezvous point Trowa and I had decided on.  
  
He was nowhere to be found once I arrived. His Gundam was still there, hidden  
with mine among the tall forest brush that surrounded the perimeters of the base.  
But where was Trowa?  
  
The smoke was leaking from every orifice in the base now; still more detonations  
were exploding. I backed deeper into the brush as OZ soldiers came pouring out  
of their headquarters, most piloting the old version of the Mobile Dolls. I had a  
bad feeling about this. My Space Heart was telling me; something was about to  
go wrong.  
  
I was debating whether or not to proceed with the plan without Trowa. It wouldn't  
be easy tackling all the enemy suits by myself, but I could pull it off.  
  
I was still debating with myself when I noticed something out of the corner of my  
eye. There was a compact circle of three to five OZ guards; I recognized them as  
the ones Trowa had tricked and stolen the keycard from.   
  
I moved around the trees until they were a few yards in front of me. They were  
angrily chattering away at something. Suddenly, the circle opened up to reveal a  
prisoner in the center: Trowa!  
  
I gasped and quickly covered my mouth lest they discover me too. They had  
captured Trowa? But that was impossible. He was almost as perfect a strategizer  
as Heero, the Perfect Soldier himself. So how had he been found out?  
  
From my discreet position, I could hear every word they were saying.  
  
"You're no OZ soldier." "OZ soldier?! Hah! He'd never pull that off." "Ya, not with  
the mistakes that he made."  
  
Mistakes? My Trowa had made mistakes?  
  
The soldier to my left pointed a grimy finger at Trowa. "Don't you know anything,  
kid? Our computer systems located an intruder with an unauthorized keycard  
number infiltrating our central computer station. I believe that was the keycard  
you stole from us."  
  
The other soldiers laughed. "We're mere perimeter guards. We aren't supposed  
to access the main computer console. We're unauthorized."   
  
They stopped laughing and the head guard pulled out a pistol. "Now, where's  
our keycard, kid? It's irreplaceable. We could get terminated if our captain found  
that we lost it. So give it back."  
  
"I don't have it." Trowa glared stoically at the soldiers steadily. His stare made  
the guard uneasy. He lost his patience.   
  
"I know you have it. Just give it to me, and maybe we'll let you go." More  
laughter.  
  
"I don't have it," Trowa repeated. The other soldiers moved away from him as the  
head guard raised the pistol at my partner's head.  
  
I thought fast. He didn't have the keycard, I did! Now they were going to shoot  
my koi...  
  
I jumped out of the brush, the noise startling the nearest guards. "Stop!" I yelled,   
holding out their prized possession. The sunlight glinted off the card. "Don't  
shoot! You want your precious keycard? Here it is."  
  
The guard smiled. "What a cooperative boy you are." He looked around at his  
grinning companions. "We figured he had an accomplice, but we didn't know  
who. He couldn't have set all those detonations off AND accessed the computer  
console at the same time. Thanks for clearing that up, kid." I frowned.  
  
He held out his free hand. "Now hand us the keycard."  
  
I shook my head. "Not until you let him go," I said, motioning towards Trowa with  
my head. He smiled evilly. "Let him go," I repeated.  
  
Suddenly, the two guards on either side leaped at me. I dodged the first, but the  
second grabbed my wrist firmly. I cried out and dropped the keycard.  
  
Trowa took advantage of the opportunity. He moved behind the other two  
soldiers, who were temporarily distracted by my predicament, and hit them with  
two strong fists. By this time, the sentry that I had dodged had come up and  
grabbed my other wrist, delivering a dizzying but fairly uneffective blow to my  
neck. It stung.  
  
Meanwhile, the head guard deftly avoided Trowa's attacks. Moving swiftly, he  
arrived but a foot in front of me. I stood, helpless, as he raised his gun at my  
head. I squeezed my eyes shut, partly to avoid the sharp pain in my neck and  
partly to avoid having to stare down the barrel of his pistol.  
  
"Bad move, kid!" he shouted at Trowa. "Now your friend here is gonna get it!"  
  
I opened my eyes one last time and stared straight at Trowa. He was looking at  
me and seemed as helpless as I felt. Maybe there was even a tint of anger,  
regret tainting his face.  
  
Trowa, you wanted to protect me, and I you, but it seems that neither of us could  
do either that we desired...  
  


***  


  
'I just have to find some way to prove my worthiness to him. There must be  
something I can do to make him see what I can do for him.'  
  
...we promised...  
  
My promise!  
  
To prove that I'm worthy of Trowa......  
  
I can't let him down!  
  
For all the times that he helped me, I have to help him, I have to show him that  
'us' is possible. We, as in, the two of us.  
  
Us...Trowa Barton and Quatre Winner...  
  


***  


  
"NOOOOOO!" I screamed, startling the two guards to my side and the head  
guard in front of me. Even Trowa jumped.  
  
I broke free of the soldiers' grasp and rammed the head guard in the stomach  
with my elbow, causing him to fall backwards and knock the wind out of him.  
Then, on the other two soldiers, I copied Trowa's previous move: the  
double-fisted knock out.  
  
'Ow,' I thought. I wasn't used to doing that kind of stuff successfully.  
  
But I would make an exception this once.  
  
For Trowa.  
  
Trowa reached for the fallen gun that had been thrown by the head guard. But  
the guard had maintained some of his balance and reached the short distance to  
grab his pistol before my partner could.  
  
'K'so!' I wanted to shout as the remaining soldier quickly righted himself and  
pointed the gun at Trowa, his finger tightening around the cocked trigger for a  
second and final time.  
  
It happened so fast, I don't even know everything that went on. One minute, I  
was standing a few feet from the guard's target, my Trowa, and the next minute,  
the gun went off. I was lying in the cool grass, staring into the bright sun, forcing  
myself to close my eyes.   
  
I remember not being able to move, a sharp throbbing pain engulfing my entire  
right side. I remember the ground pounding, heavy with footsteps, and the sound  
of a nearby struggle before another shot resounded through the air. Then a thick  
silence followed.  
  
After that, I felt strong arms gather me into their embrace. I opened my eyes; the  
brightness had somewhat cleared and a face was looming above mine. It looked  
anxious.   
  
Trowa?  
  
I don't remember. It looked like him. But the sunlight was so radiant behind him,  
it framed the edges of his face and hair. Like a halo.  
  
It might have been an angel.  
  
Then the angel spoke, his voice not quite making it past my ears. "Ai shiteru,  
little one... Please don't die," it said. The voice sounded so heartbroken.  
  
I don't remember much after that. I had tried to answer, but nothing came out of  
my mouth. So I smiled instead. Besides, the light was so piercingly brilliant and  
the reticent darkness was so soothing that I completely let the twilight blackness  
engulf me.  
  
It was so comforting.  
  


***  


  
Trowa kept silent vigil over the blond.  
  
Hour after hour, his green eyes stared intensely at the little one, lying so  
spiritless in the hotel room bed.  
  
'Wake up,' he pleaded silently, continually, hoping that Quatre would suddenly  
open his eyes and talk to him animatedly, as he did so often before.  
  
But no such thing transpired.  
  
The taller pilot had drawn the curtains to the bedroom windows. It was time for  
darkness.  
  
The golden angel had fallen, and it had all been for Trowa.  
  
'What had come over Quatre?' Trowa couldn't figure it out. Quatre always fussed  
over him, but he had never attacked OZ soldiers by hand, and he had never  
EVER taken a bullet for anyone.  
  
Except Trowa.  
  
Trowa was the one exception for whom Quatre would do anything.  
  
Even sacrifice his own innocence.  
  
The tall pilot shook his head in annoyance. What a stupid thing to do, jumping in  
front of the gun like that. He knew that the OZ soldier was going to shoot, and  
yet he still risked his life like that. Quatre knew the importance of life; he was  
always going on about its true value. But what was so important about Trowa  
that he had to protect?  
  
And why?  
  
He placed his right hand gently on the small boy's chest, feeling the rhythmic  
heartbeat throbbing under his warm hand. Alive.  
  
He was alive.  
  
He could have died. It was a foolish thing to do...saving Trowa. But Quatre was a  
good, pure-hearted person. In a split second, he had managed to tackle Trowa  
to the ground from a few yards away.   
  
After that, Trowa didn't recall much. He had been thrown off guard by the blond's  
actions. He did remember, however, sitting up and looking towards the felled  
boy, immensely shocked as a large, and growing, circular pool of red stained  
the side of Quatre's shirt.  
  
And the small pilot wasn't moving.  
  
On instinct, a fierce, uncontrollable anger overcame him, and Trowa jumped to  
attack the guard. After a brief scuttle, the tall pilot had managed to take hold of  
the gun.  
  
"This is for Quatre," he recalled thinking as he shot the soldier.  
  
Confirming the guard's demise, he had gone over to grieve for the Arabian when  
to his surprise, Quatre had opened his beautiful blue eyes. They registered  
recognition, and Trowa almost sighed with relief. But beyond recognition, there  
was nothing. No happiness, no pain, just resigned defeat.  
  
Quatre had thought he was at the end of his line.  
  
He was far from Death, if Trowa could help it. "Ai shiteru," he had said, hoping it  
would give Quatre some incentive not to give up the fight. The blond had lain so  
weakly in his arms, trying to answer. He had managed to mouth the words 'ai  
shiteru,' before completely passing out.  
  
Trowa had piled into an OZ truck, temporarily forgetting their hidden Gundams  
as he carried a limp Quatre into the vehicle. If the boy didn't lose too much  
blood, he would be fine. He had only been shot in the side, presumably under  
the ribs, nearer the stomach: inflicted at a close range...a deep wound, hence  
the heavy blood. Only the side, but he would still have to hurry.  
  
Upon arriving at the hotel, he snuck in the back way, all the while carrying his  
Quatre. He inspected the wound, and to his relief, he had found that the bullet  
had done little damage. It had grazed his internal organs, but luckily, it had not  
really penetrated.   
  
However, the little metal projectile had been buried deep in Quatre's side; it was  
of immense difficulty to remove. But he finally did it, the blond writhing on the  
table all the while, still unconscious.  
  
Trowa removed his hand and placed his other on Quatre's forehead, sweeping   
bangs back from close-lidded eyes to reveal milky white skin, cool to the touch.  
Under Trowa's sweeping caress, Quatre sighed and turned his heavy head  
towards the brown-haired boy's hand.  
  
Trowa almost smiled, but didn't. Nothing could make him stop worrying about the  
smaller boy, unless the Arabain decided to suddenly wake up.  
  
But Trowa didn't see much chance of that happening soon.  
  
Quatre had responded to his touch, but touch was only one of the first senses to  
return. The next was presumably hearing. Then, smell, sight, and taste would  
also return, but slowly.  
  
Unbelievable, but talking to Quatre might help aid in his recovery.  
  
"Little one, I know you can hear me. It's me, Trowa" He blushed, thinking himself  
a little crazy for talking to a sleeping boy. But he continued. "Quatre, you've  
been through a lot, but everything is okay now, koi. I'm here...I'll always be here  
for you."  
  
He blushed even harder, forcing himself to go to the kitchen for a cool glass of  
water. He was excessively worrying over the boy. Quatre was only recovering,  
he knew that, but he wanted to make sure everything was perfect.  
  
Perfect for his little Quatre.  
  
He returned with the water to find Quatre twisting in his sleep. 'He'll hurt himself,'  
thought Trowa. He rushed to the boy's bedside, desperately trying to wake him.  
  
"Quatre, can you hear me? Please, Quatre, wake up!"  
  


***  


  
I was having a nightmare.  
  
A painful, horrible nightmare I couldn't break free of.  
  
It was the kind of dream that wakes you, sweating and yelling and crying, in the  
middle of the night.  
  
In the abomination, I had failed Trowa. I stood helplessly as the bullet pierced  
right through Trowa's heart, and watched in horror as the guard turned around  
and another bullet pierced mine.  
  
It hurt; man, did it hurt. My whole body was on fire, even before I was shot. It had  
been Trowa's sudden and immediate death which had caused the pain and  
suffering to ignite in me.  
  
The pain from the bullet was nothing compared to the pain in my heart.  
  
I struggled to free myself from the jaws of Death. I wouldn't let Him take me, and  
I would try even harder to save Trowa. I twisted and turned in the grasp of  
Darkness, ignoring the stabbing pain in my side and the even more painful  
wound racking my heart.  
  
"Everything is okay now, koi. I'm here...I'll always be here for you." I heard the  
statement float up from the darkness. It was Trowa's voice, but he was nowhere  
to be seen.  
  
"I won't let you take him. Let us go, onegai...let Trowa go," I gasped weakly, my  
voice surprisingly hoarse. "Onegai..."  
  
Then I woke up.  
  


***  


  
Trowa was glad to see the Arabian calm upon waking. It was some nightmare; it  
had the blond squirming violently in his bed, requesting help and even  
something about saving Trowa.  
  
As soon as the swollen eyes opened, Trowa withdrew. He had to hold onto  
Quatre's arms and call his name repeatedly to wake him. It must have hurt the  
blond to wake because the moment he opened his eyes, he squeezed them shut  
again, wincing in pain as a little sigh escaped his closed lips.   
  
It was agony just to watch the blond, trying to control himself and failing to do so,  
eventually giving in to the pain. Quatre slowly opened his eyes, revealing pain  
and confusion.  
  
"Where are we?" he asked. Trowa barely heard him. He had listened to him cry  
out loudly in his dream, but his voice had been ragged.   
  
Trowa placed a finger to his lips. "Shhhh," he whispered. "It's okay, little one.  
We're in the hotel room. We'll be safe for now." The Arabian managed the  
slightest of smiles before closing his eyes again.   
  
"Trowa," he asked, more audibly this time. "Hai," he replied.   
  
"Did you say anything to me? You know, while I was asleep?"  
  
He blushed and looked down. "Hai," came the soft reply.  
  
The blond beamed at him, a much happier and much wider smile. The blush  
faded from Trowa's face as he returned the smile.  
  
"Did I prove myself worthy?"  
  
"Nani?" he turned towards Quatre. His eyes had glazed over, and he had taken  
on an ironically sad expression. "Quatre?"  
  
He didn't respond. Trowa sat on the bed carefully and tentatively touched  
Quatre's hand, which was lying limp on the blanket. Suddenly, the Arabian  
flinched, and he snapped back to reality. "What?" the blond squeezed Trowa's  
hand tightly. Quatre's hand was icy cold.  
  
"I'm here," the taller pilot replied, tight-lipped; worry was creasing his face.  
"What did you mean, 'prove yourself?'"  
  
Quatre looked at his partner in surprise. "Anou, nothing. It was...nothing."  
  
Trowa shook his head. "If it's nothing, then you can tell me."  
  
The blond sighed. "I just wanted to prove myself to you."  
  
"Prove yourself?"  
  
"Hai." He laughed through the pain. Through his pale skin, Trowa could see  
Quatre's intense, pink blush. "Don't seem so surprised, koibito. I wasn't worthy of  
your love; I'm still not. Please forgive me, Trowa."  
  
Quatre's voice was so incredibly dejected, Trowa was feeling the blond's morose  
spirit rubbing off on him. He liked the happy blond much better than this  
downhearted one.   
  
"Iie, chibi ichi. Forgive me. I should have made you feel happier. I was the  
selfish one. Gomen ne, little one. You've more than proven yourself to me. You  
never had to prove yourself. You're more than perfect, Quatre. Much more."  
  
Quatre's sad blue eyes quickly turned to cheerful, happy ones as soon as the  
words left Trowa's mouth. "Honto, Trowa? You really mean it?"  
  
The tall pilot smiled and nodded. "Hai. Of course I do, little one."  
  
The young Winner tried painfully to sit up in bed. He almost collapsed back onto  
the pillow, had it not been for Trowa's help. He promptly put his arms around  
Quatre, lifting the small body easily and placing him in a comfortable sitting  
position.   
  
He tried to release Quatre for fear of causing the boy any further pain, but the  
blond wouldn't loosen his hold on the taller pilot's back. Instead, he pulled Trowa  
closer, almost shoving his face against his own blond head. "Doumo arigatou,"  
Quatre whispered into the brown-haired pilot's shoulder. "And, ai shiteru,  
Trowa."  
  
Trowa smiled into the blond's fragrant hair. "Ai shiteru, chibi ichi," he whispered  
sweetly. It was barely loud enough to be heard by Quatre.   
  
But Quatre didn't need to hear him say it to know what he meant. He could tell,  
just by listening to Trowa's heartbeat. Or rather, his heartbeat.  
  
He couldn't distinguish them because it was as if the two heartbeats had melted  
into one everlasting, rhythmic pulse, beating forever for the rest of eternity.  
  
  
  
~OWARI~  
  
  
  
A/N: sorry Quatre luvers, i didn't want 2 have him b the 1 to get shot (specially since i'm a Quatre-fan 2...it killed me 2 shoot him!). it's just that, well, in all the Quatre/Trowa fics i've seen, it's always Trowa who saves Quatre, never the other way around. well minna, Quatre's not as weak as he seems; he's really one of the strongest ones there. and i just wanted to show that he can be brave n strong 2. [awww...debonair little Quatre! lol kawaii!!]  
  
eh, it was kinda mushy? sorry bout that. ^^* i couldn't help myself...4 some reason. well, tell me whatcha think; rate n review pleez! gomen if i annoyed u with the shooting-Quatre thing or the Trowa-needs-to-be-protected thing. i'll try not 2 do it again, promise! well, oyasumi and jaaa!!!  
  
ChibiQuatre @ tigerlily6c@aol.com


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